England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection

Home > Other > England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection > Page 235
England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 235

by Kathryn Le Veque


  William watched her for a moment, his jaw ticking and his big hands working. It seemed as if he was waiting for her to continue arguing with him, or at the very least politely contradict him, but she remained silent. Her only response was to lift her eyebrows. He lifted his in return, just to show her he meant business. After a moment, he turned on his heel and marched from the room.

  Avalyn did not see him again for three weeks.

  EPILOGUE

  1478 A.D.

  Guerdley Cross

  Avalyn stood with her arms folded across her chest, looking with much displeasure upon a boy of seven as he ran after a younger blond-haired boy. The boys had wooden swords and it was evident that the older child was attempting to end the life of the younger one. Unable to condone the terrifying chase, she called out to them.

  “Ty!” she said, watching the lads grind to a halt. “You will cease terrorizing your brother.”

  Charles Tygor William Aubrey, whom they had called Ty since birth, was a very large boy for only seven years of age. With his chestnut colored hair and deep blue eyes, he was already an extremely handsome lad and was quite often taken for a child several years older. Standing next to him, his younger half-brother by two years, Boone, scratched his white-blond hair as if unclear why his mother was concerned.

  “But… Mam, we were playing a battle,” Ty explained. “Boone is Edward and I am Richard de Neville.”

  She almost cracked a smile. “So you would chase him all over the yard?”

  Ty smiled, a bright, toothy gesture. “Of course. Father says that Edward is a coward!”

  Avalyn couldn’t help the smile on her lips now, her gaze moving over the bailey in search of her husband. He wasn’t hard to find; standing near the gatehouse in discussion with Barton, William caught her gaze, even from a distance. He could tell just by her body language that she was perturbed. Leaving Barton with a short word and a smirk, he made his way over to his wife.

  “My lady?” he greeted formally, though there was a grin on his face. “Do you require me?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Did you tell your sons that Edward was a coward and that it is honorable to chase a frightened man all over the field of battle?”

  He drew close, his round blue eyes soft on her. His hand found its way onto her back, affectionately, as he formulated his answer. “Hmmm,” he said after a moment, scratching his chin. “I do believe I only told them the truth. But Barton filled their heads with tales of glory. You can blame him.”

  “And you did not stop him?”

  William shrugged. “They were good tales.”

  Before Avalyn could reply, a tiny figure with white-blond hair rushed past them, swinging a little wooden sword. Avalyn’s mouth popped open in shock and outrage as three-year-old Drury Inglesbatch went on the offensive against his two older brothers. Ty raised his sword to protect himself as Dru chopped on him.

  “Dru!” Avalyn gasped as William moved to intercept his youngest son. “Stop attacking your brother!”

  William was trying hard not to let the boys see him smile as he picked Dru up, still swinging the sword. He put his hand up, stilling the toy before it came too close to his head. Rushing up on the toddler’s heels came a flustered Noe.

  “Druie!” she gasped, then looked between William and Avalyn. “Forgive me, my lady. He woke up from his nap and ran off. He tried to stab me when I attempted to stop him.”

  Avalyn cast her youngest son a long glare; Dru was by far the most aggressive of their four children, an excellent quality in a knight but a not-so-excellent quality in a child. Still, he was an affectionate joy when he wasn’t being an unholy terror. She opened her mouth to reprimand him but a soft coo caught her attention; in Noe’s arms lounged a very contented baby of eleven months with her mother’s golden eyes and her father’s brown hair. Forgetting about her naughty son, Avalyn smiled at the Lady Willow Inglesbatch and took her from Noe.

  “Well,” she said, her gaze gentle on her daughter. “At least I have one child who will not be out swinging swords and chasing cowards.”

  William kissed his son loudly on the cheek and finally set the boy down when he began to howl. Though he admonished the lad to leave his brothers alone, Dru nonetheless went back to hacking at them and they were forced to defend themselves. Soon a full-scale melèe erupted. Avalyn merely shook her head.

  “I give up,” she said to her husband. “Since you filled their heads with tales of glory, you can stay and supervise this… this madness. But if any one of them comes back to me missing an eye or sporting stitches, I will take it out on your hide.”

  William smiled broadly, bowing compliantly before pulling his wife and daughter into his arms and kissing them both. His lips lingered on Avalyn just a little bit longer, moving from her cheek to her neck to her mouth.

  “I promise,” he murmured, kissing her soft lips again. “No blood or injuries.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him, gazing into the face of the man she could not do without. “You’d better.”

  He released the woman reluctantly, watching Avalyn as she carried the baby back towards the keep. There were still times when he had trouble believing the turn his life had taken. Before he lost himself in too much reflection, Boone got a piece of Dru and the three-year old screamed. William turned back to his battling boys, concerned that Dru now had a scratch on his arm as the result of his brother’s sword and wondering just how mad Avalyn was going to get.

  But he didn’t particularly care; her anger didn’t last long. He was always able to calm her down. Taking Ty’s sword with the intention of inspecting a split in the wood, he ended up the target of Boone and Dru’s bloodlust. When the boys realized a wooden sword would not get far against their father, Ty tackled him, took out his legs, and the other two jumped on him.

  Avalyn glanced over her shoulder as her husband and three boys rolled in the dirt of the bailey. With a grin, she turned around in time to see Barton approach. She shifted the baby and pointed to William.

  “You had better go and help him,” she said. “’Tis your fault he finds himself under attack.”

  Barton smiled broadly; he and William had become the best of friends over the past several years and he considered William’s boys his own. Any hostilities he had ever felt about Avalyn were long gone; he clearly adored and respected her.

  As she pointed, he shook his head. “Nay, my lady, I do not intend to enter into that mess,” he said, reaching out for the infant in her arms. “But I will hold the baby.”

  She shook her head. “She must be fed. I don’t suppose you can do that.”

  His seeking hands came to a halt and he put them up in surrender. “Nay, Lady Inglesbatch, I cannot. I suppose I shall go and help your husband, then.”

  He was off. No sooner had he gotten in range of the snarling mess of males than Ty spied him and took him out by the knees, too. Avalyn and Noe winced as the big lad pounced on his chest.

  “Oh my,” Noe exclaimed softly as Barton grunted. “Ty is such a big boy. Surely he will hurt Sir Barton.”

  Avalyn cast a glance at Noe; she knew that the pale woman held feelings for Barton, but Barton seemed more interested in Thel. In fact, he had been interested in her for a couple of years, but the knight was too reluctant to progress much further. He did not know of the Sirens background and neither Avalyn nor William had ever told him; to Barton, Thel was simply a dark-haired lady in waiting, someone with a pretty face and a good deal of wisdom. Avalyn suspected that very short Guerdley Cross would see another wedding, but she did not push the issue. Her husband had told her not to.

  Noe went inside before Avalyn, wanting to clean up the mess in the chamber shared by the children before their mother got there. The day was soft and cool, with a light sea breeze snapping the banners overhead. William had commissioned his own banners shortly after their marriage and the blue, gold and white of Inglesbatch now waved proudly alongside Aubrey’s crimson. Because Ty carried the Aubrey name, they continued
the Aubrey banners out of respect to the boy. The Neville banners which had once flown over the fortress were long since vanished.

  Avalyn watched the banners flap, noticing that the breeze was growing stronger. It usually did so before a storm rolled in. Over her shoulder, the boys were still leaping on their father and Barton, although William had managed to make it to his feet. She loved to watch them play. But the baby was hungry, demanding her attention, and she mounted the steps to the keep. As she neared the middle of the flight, the sentries on the wall shouted the arrival of a visitor.

  Avalyn usually paid attention to the visitors in and out of Guerdley Cross; politics and the throne were still very much a part of their life and with their wealth and manpower, there was always someone of significance coming and going. Pausing on the steps, she watched the incoming rider astride the massive brown warmblood. There was nothing strange or unusual about the rider and William was already dusting himself off in preparation for greeting the visitor. Bordering on disinterest, Avalyn resumed mounting the steps. But something suddenly made her stop; she froze a moment, wondering why she was unable to continue and why the visitor had struck her as being oddly familiar. It wasn’t so much the horse, tack or pennants. It was the size.

  Her heart suddenly began thumping madly in her chest. It can’t be! she told herself. Impossible! Face pale, eyes wide, she turned back to the visitor just as William reached him. She saw her husband take a stumbling step backwards as if startled. When the rider removed his helm, she could see why.

  It was Brogan.

  Had she not been holding Willow, she more than likely would have collapsed out of sheer surprise. She could hardly believe what her eyes were telling her. Unable to move much less think, she simply stood there, holding her daughter and struggling not to break down for all to see. William was speaking to Brogan; she could see his head moving. There was an exchange of some sort. And she very clearly saw when Brogan’s eyes fell on her. She felt his gaze like an arrow right through her chest.

  It simply can’t be! Overwhelmed, she bolted into the keep, calling for Noe or Thel as she went. She was shaking so badly that she was positive she was going to drop the baby. When the ladies didn’t come quickly enough, she didn’t trust herself to mount the stairs and went into the solar. She plopped on the nearest chair as if unable to stand any longer.

  Willow was fussing softly with hunger. Avalyn heard her daughter but her mind was in the bailey where Brogan was now speaking with William. She still could not comprehend what she had seen, still having difficulty grasping that the man was actually here. But why was he here? The baby’s fussing grew louder and without thinking, she unfastened the top of her surcoat and pulled her shift aside. Willow snuggled up to her mother’s swollen nipple and suckled contentedly. Under normal circumstances, Avalyn wouldn’t have dreamed of nursing the baby in a public room. But, at the moment, she wasn’t thinking at all. She was stupefied.

  Her hands were shaking; in fact, her entire body was shaking. As she gazed down at her daughter tugging at her breast, it began to occur to her that although she was startled to see him, she did not feel a huge resurgence of emotion as she would have expected. It had been five years since she had seriously given the man any thought. More than anything, she felt relief that he was alive. But the overwhelming love she had once felt for him, the undying devotion that had driven her to the brink of ruin, was faded. She had found such contentment and happiness with William that the love she felt for Brogan, though it would always be there, was nothing more than a fond memory.

  The shaking in her hands calmed and she stroked her daughter’s brown hair, seeing much of William in that round little face. She knew that, eventually, William would seek her out. He was probably more rattled by Brogan’s appearance than she was, terrified that he was about to lose his wife to a man who had captured her attention more than any other. But she felt an overwhelmingly strong need to convince him that his fears were unfounded. She loved her family, and William, too much to harm them. Brogan was a warm, distant memory and nothing more.

  She was almost completely calm by the time she heard the front door creak open. She could hear soft voices and identified William’s right away. His voice always brought her such serenity, the calm manner in which he spoke reassured her like nothing else. His was the first face she saw when he peeked his head into the solar. She smiled at him, letting him know that she was all right. His eyes were wide on her as he stepped into the room.

  “Avalyn,” he began haltingly, his face pale. “We have a visitor. It seems that….”

  “It’s Brogan,” she said before he could torture himself any more with an explanation. She pulled the dozing baby off her breast and covered herself up. “I know; I saw him. Where is he?”

  At a loss for words, William turned to look over his shoulder. As he stepped into the room, Brogan followed on his heels.

  Deep blue met with golden brown. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Brogan was as she had remembered him, only a little older, with flecks of gray in his golden-brown curls. He looked more shaken than she did. It was an odd standoff as they studied one another, a million unspoken words filling the air. Their expressions varied from curious to almost painful, and the silence swelled to a splitting capacity. Avalyn could feel the pinpricks of tension as she gazed at him, calmly waiting for him to speak.

  What seemed like hours of silence was only a few short seconds. As Brogan finally opened his mouth, the front door suddenly slammed back on its hinges. The sound startled the adults and Avalyn actually jumped. As she recovered her composure, three young boys rushed into the solar like a stampede of cattle.

  Dru rushed to his mother with Boone on his heels. They began to clamor over who would hold the baby next, arguing and very quickly starting to throw punches which Avalyn deftly stilled with the magic of a mother’s threat. William managed to reach out and grab Ty before the boy could wreak any damage; as big as he was, he had been known to bowl people, and things, over.

  “Gentle men,” William said sternly. “You will behave. We have a guest and I’ll not have the man spread tales of the wild animals I have raised.”

  Dru and Boone looked at the massive stranger, their round faces and wide blue eyes curious and possibly a bit apprehensive. Ty, standing in his father’s grasp, also looked at the man; when their eyes met, it was a startling moment.

  Avalyn watched Brogan’s face as he gazed for the first time upon the son he never knew he had. It was like looking in a mirror, for Ty most definitely possessed his father’s features and size. There was no way to deny the obvious. Brogan’s features tightened, but still, he said nothing. Only Ty, obviously to what was going on around them, was able to speak.

  “My lord,” he greeted politely. “I am sorry if we disturbed you.”

  Brogan stared at the boy, his eyes widening. For a moment, Avalyn thought he might burst into tears. She remembered his dead son from long ago, wondering if Ty looked anything like Shaw d’Aurilliac. Her nervousness was back, for she knew what the lad had meant to his father those years ago. No matter what shock they all felt as his appearance, she didn’t want the man to make a fool of himself.

  “Brogan,” she said, capturing his attention. “We are surprised and honored by your visit. What brings you to Guerdley Cross?”

  Brogan tore his eyes away from the lad, fixing on Avalyn once again. But his attention inevitably moved to the two boys standing next to her and the baby in her arms. He gestured to them.

  “These children are yours?” he asked, his voice strangely hoarse.

  She nodded. “This is Boone Inglesbatch, Drury Inglesbatch, and the Lady Willow Inglesbatch. And that young man in my husband’s grasp is our eldest, Ty Aubrey.”

  Brogan looked back at Ty again, rampant emotions racing across his features. He fumbled to speak, not recovering very well. One hand still held his helm while the other gestured to a large wooden bench near the lancet window.

  “Might… might
I sit, my lady?” he asked in a weak voice. “It has been long journey.”

  She nodded graciously, whispering to Boone to take his brothers from the room. Dutifully, as Boone was very much like his father, he grabbed Dru’s hand and gestured to Ty to follow him. The three boys quit the room without another word. William remained by the door, alternately watching Brogan and watching his wife. He wasn’t about to go anywhere. When the boys were well out of earshot, Avalyn spoke.

  “It has been a long time, Brogan,” she said softly. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

  Brogan was clearly having trouble speaking; he’d been in control when he had come through the gates, even up through William’s announcement that he and Avalyn had been married for years. But the sight of a young man who looked the exact image of his late son Shaw had him reeling.

  “I came home to see to my mother’s burial,” he struggled to form coherent sentences. “I saw St. Alban. He told me that William had come to London looking for me. So I came.”

  “It was many years ago that William went looking for you.” Avalyn looked down at the baby, sleeping against her breast. “I am sorry to hear about your mother. I pray that she did not suffer in her death.”

  “Nay,” he said, watching her as she cradled the baby and feeling a strange tug to his heart. “She went peacefully. Since my step-father died a couple of years ago, St. Alban had been taking care of her. He took good care of her until the end.”

  Avalyn nodded faintly. Then her head came up, her golden eyes fixing on him guardedly. “Why are you here?”

  He lifted his big shoulders, fidgeting with his helm. “St. Alban told me that William came to London looking for me those years ago,” he said. “He told me that you had sent William to make sure that I had not killed myself in despair. He also told me that Aubrey had died on your wedding night. To be truthful, I did not even know if I would find you at Guerdley Cross. I took a chance that you would still be here, still lady of the manor as Aubrey’s widow. But I did not know that… that you had married William.”

 

‹ Prev